


Blackgate

by YouLi



Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Blackgate, Canon-Typical Violence, Loyalty, M/M, Post-Betrayal, Prison, Prison Sex, Protective Zsasz, Sexual Assault, Who's the Boss, Zsaszlepot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-24
Updated: 2019-08-16
Packaged: 2020-01-07 00:34:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18399515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouLi/pseuds/YouLi
Summary: Oswald is horrified - after all he's done for Jim and Gotham, they sent him to Blackgate.When he's greeted by a familiar face, he believes himself in a nightmare.Considering he tried to execute the man who now calls himself "The Boss of Blackgate".After 5x11





	1. Chapter 1

_Blackgate._

It couldn't sound any worse than it actually was, but the thought of the verdict alone caused Oswald to collapse internally. He had feared Arkham, but _that_ was _far_ worse.  
The blue jumpsuit was scratchy, the guards were more brutal and their grip was harder.

_Blackgate._

Hot fear flooded his veins, and discomfort. More than fear, was the feeling that this was unjust. Unjust!  
He didn't WANT it! But on the other hand, who wanted to go to Blackgate?  
Arkham was already too much for him. Both times. Who knew how Blackgate would be.  
Worse, that was for sure.

While Arkham was ravaged by insane madmen, there were ice-cold killers in Blackgate. Who could only kill him with their bare hands, they were stronger than he could have imagined.  
Killers who were just bursting with testosterone - the exact opposite of him.  
Killers who have not seen women for months or years.

  
  
_"Keep the soap tight in your little hand, Penguin," he heard Harvey Bullock's nasty advice as they put him in the car._  
  
_"Jim! JIM! You can't let that happen! JIM! You were in Blackgate, you know I won't survive a day there! JIM!_  
  
_"Take care, Oswald!"_  
  
_With these words the car door had closed and Oswald was left to his gruesome fate._

  
  
His breath came raggedly and he felt close to fainting when the fourth paled gate slammed behind them today. He closed his eyes for a moment. He would let them pay for it. All of them. First and foremost Jim.

Jim.

After all he had done for him! After all the times he had helped him, the times he had fought at his side! After all, this was his _thank you_.

Bitterly he bit his lip.  
  
'You'll survive it, Oswald. You've been through so much already'.  
  
'The bullies', his mother's voice shot through his head and he almost hyperventilated.  
He was dead. He knew that. Probably he was the weakest man of all - crippled, without power and influence he was NOTHING in here.  
His feet didn't even touch the ground as he was dragged through the narrow prison corridors by the rough guards. As they stood in front of another barred door, Oswald's stomach turned. Now they came into the corridor with the prisoners' cells. Even before the key turned in the lock, he heard the animalistic sounds. Groans, growls, grunts.

He got sick.  
  
"No, no, no," he begged quietly as he was dragged through the corridor. He tried not to look too closely, but his own nature forbade him to look away. All he saw was information. Information that might eventually be useful. Some prisoners lurked at their gates and eyed him. Others pressed their faces against it, others lay in their beds or did push-ups on the cold concrete floor.  
"Fresh meat," wheezed a disgusting figure, and Oswald's body stiffened in the guards' handles. His sweating hands clawed into his welcome pack, which consisted of a pair of pyjamas, a new toothbrush, and a piece of soap. His gaze glided past the grid wall, one cell following the other. Some cells were locked with security doors, but you could peek in through a small grid window. Oswald swallowed. The prisoners he had seen so far were already abnormal enough, he could not imagine which beasts lurked behind these heavy iron doors.  
  
With an unstoppable curiosity he tried to risk a glimpse as he passed by. At one door he saw only a blue jumpsuit, at the next door, a foul-smelling creature pressed its teeth against the barred window and breathed some unintelligible, threatening words, which let Oswald's neck hairs stand up. But not in a good sense.  
  
For a long time he couldn't see anything interesting, he was dragged through the hallway too quickly, but at the last iron door he thought he saw a large figure with a bald head. His heart briefly slipped into his pants. Was that ... Victor?

He tried to shake off the thought. No one had seen the professional killer for months. After the Ivy Pepper incident, the GCPD had him in custody for a short time, but after that he simply disappeared. His conscience sometimes played tricks on him since he tried to execute him. A nervous flutter pounded in his pit of stomach.  
He had wrongly condemned him - not he, but none other than Ed was responsible for the bombing of the haven! Well, Victor had been as innocent as he had been of the murder of Don Falcone. But that was all in the past, what did it matter anyway?  
  
  
After what felt like eternity, the guards stopped in front of a gate and unlocked it.

"897, you have a roommate." With these words they pushed Oswald into the small, dark cell. With a loud noise the door behind them slammed shut.

'You can't do that, I'm the Penguin! There's been a misunderstanding here, I want to talk to my lawyer,' a shrill voice cried out in him, but he didn't bother to let it out anymore. He had screamed so much during the last hours that he was hoarse and could hardly say a word.

They would pay! All of them! Starting with Bullock and Jim! How many times had he saved their asses and that was the thanks? Gotham would perish without him and it was only a matter of time before they crawled back in.  
Suspecting nothing good, he looked at the bed on the wall. Below lay a somewhat older man who was now standing up.  
Interested, he looked at the penguin and put his glasses on his nose. Without hesitation he reached for the toothbrush on Oswald's bundle and looked at it satisfied.  
"A new toothbrush, I suppose you like to trade with me."  
Oswald swallowed and tried to suppress a gag reflex.

"Of course," he cawed and put on a biting grin. He closed his eyes briefly when a stinky old toothbrush was put on his bundle.  
  
He hated this place! And he would do anything to get home. Or even to leave Gotham. Everywhere was better than here. And he didn't intend to brush his teeth with this run-down man's sick, stinky toothbrush for more days than absolutely necessary.

If only he had left this cursed city with Eddie! But no, he had to persuade him to stay here and fight for their city. He had urged him to listen to his _heart_ instead of his brain. And what had it brought them? He had almost lost his eye and then they were also separated. While he was serving his sentence here, Ed was in Arkham. This defeat hurt. Especially after they finally found their way back to each other again. He had to get back to him! The Penguin and the Riddler _belonged together_. The GCPD knew. The court knew. Gotham knew. So they wanted under any circumstances to seperate them.

 _'They will **pay** for this!  I will flay them alive! Jim! Harvey! The Mayor! Anyone, who betrayed us!'_  
  
A short time passed and then they were let out of the cells and led into the canteen. The prison was big. And there were about 10-20 times more inmates than in Arkham. They stood in a row in front of the food counter and Oswald tried not to look anyone in the face. Not that he would inadvertently provoke anyone. Disgusted, he turned his face when a yellow groats and green, wrinkled balls were slapped on his plate, which were supposed to be mashed potatoes with peas. They also had chocolate pudding with cream, which looked even more acceptable.  
With a queasy feeling, he looked around the large room for an empty seat. He felt just as lost as he did in High school when they had to choose who you belonged to. To the rich, the cool, the athletes,  the nerds or the scientists...Oswald never seemed to fit in anywhere. He was too uncool for the cool, too unsporting for the athletes, too style-conscious for the nerds. Too uninterested for the scientists.  
And here? Was it much worse! There were the white bald Nazis, one of them even had a swastika tattooed on his neck. The Blacks, all one to two heads taller than him. Then the Triad gangs, who looked at him from their slit-eyes in a dangerous manner. The old biker gangsters, who somehow still seemed to be the most harmless choice. Slowly he walked in their direction, trying not to attract attention, not to bump into anyone by mistake, or to look too intimidated. He tried a mask of indifference.  
When his pudding was stolen from him by a black man, he didn't look at all. He ignored it. He didn't care. He didn't need any pudding. But everything in him cried out to ram his fork into the hand of this lower creature - although it probably wouldn't matter much, because they only got plastic cutlery.  
After lunch they were sent out to the courtyard and Oswald could finally breathe a sigh of relief. He knew he would be assigned to his work tomorrow. So today was practically his "trial day". Despite an everlasting inner tension, he had to say that things had gone quite well so far - according to the circumstances. Of course, the staring eyes didn't go unnoticed on him. From all sorts of riffraff - coarse muscled and crawling petty criminals . He tried to carry it with composure. So far only one had tried to trip him up and thank God his reflexes were so good that he had still caught himself stumbling and had not fallen down.

Yes, in here he was indeed what they had waited for. Physically and strength-wise he was inferior and in addition a cripple. It was humiliating. A shame, he wasn't allowed to have knives. In this case, everything would look to his advantage.  
Lost in thought, he looked into the sky. He knew that he should use the time to study the prisoners secretly. To find out their quirks and to analyse the hierarchies here. He was able to find some of the prisoners who were in charge at the lunch table. But there were more, he knew. And it was also important to find out how the gangs were in contact with each other. Which of the gangs cooperated and which were hostile? But he also had time for that later.  
  
Enough time. He had been given 10 years. _10 years_! Of course he wouldn't leave it at that, 10 years for him? He didn't even think about it! He would soon enough find his way out, in one way or another. Nevertheless, he allowed himself a few moments in which he felt sorry for himself and enjoyed the blue sky. At least a little normality behind the grey, bleak walls.  
  
"Hi, Boss," a voice suddenly reached his ears and Oswald froze on the spot. _He knew this voice_. All too well. It had accompanied him for five years, and then betrayed him ice-coldly. But that was impossible?  
Victor Zsasz?  
  
"Victor?" he breathed destroyed.  
No. Please not Victor.  
He swallowed before turning with a bewildered face... His eyes widened in panic as he actually saw the said professional killer standing at the other end of the yard and slowly approaching him. With wide open arms.  
  
"Welcome Penguin, to my realm," he greeted him with a broad, predatory grin and approached him.

"We still have a score to settle, you and I."  
  
His heart slipped into his pants. When Victor Zsasz was here in prison, he didn't give himself more than two days. Or two minutes.  
  
"HELP!" Oswald screamed now in panic, knowing that he would not survive this if no one helped him. Revenge was something that was hard to escape. No one knew that better than he did! With horror he had to watch as all the guards demonstratively turned away.  
  
"Ts ts, Boss," the bald man shook his head in amusement. Even from a distance Oswald could see the sadistic sparkle in the so familiar dark eyes. He knew Victor well, too well, so he was very aware of what this sparkle meant. _Victor was getting ready for fun_. And everyone knew what _fun_ meant for him. Certainly not fun for the person he looked at with _that_ look.  
  
"Once _you_ were the King of Gotham. Inside here – I am." he said in a good mood.  
  
Suddenly he clicked his fingers and almost all the prisoners in the yard stood up, the blacks, the Nazis, the bikers, the mexicans, even the triads. They cracked their ankles, and Victor called calmly across the courtyard.

"Boys, give my old friend Penguin a warm welcome!"  
  
He had his arms stretched out again and laughed diabolically as prisoners gradually came to Oswald from all sides and beat him to the ground. The blows hit his head, the kicks aimed at his legs.  
That was the end of him!

His gaze turned black as he lay on the floor holding his aching stomach, his ears booming and his head pounding dull. He saw blood before his eyes, but was not sure where it came from. From his nose, or his mouth. Panically he tried to protect his head and eyes as well as he could. As for his eyes, he had become very sensitive. Something warm ran down his throat and he coughed against it, frightened. Would he end up dying like that? Choked by his own blood? His body was shaken by a violent coughing attack, while he was kicked like a dead rat by one prisoner to another.

_I'll flay you alive! Every. single. one. of. you!_

  
Before he passed out all he could see from the floor, through a blood-red veil, was Victor's sadistic merciless grin.

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

When Oswald opened his eyes, he felt miserable. Every part of his body seemed to ache painfully. He groaned. Where was he? In Panic his eyes scurried around the room. He didn't recognize this place. Then it occurred to him.

Blackgate!

His heart slipped into his jumpsuit.

He remembered.

Nevertheless, he didn't know where _exactly_ he was. He didn't recognize this room. Didn't he share the cell with an old guy? Where the hell was he?

"The little bird is awake", he heard and only then did he see the nurse beside the curtain. He wanted to say something, beg that he should be moved. He was almost beaten to death!

He froze.

Zsasz.

Everything inside him rebelled and he got sick. That Victor was in here, changed _everything_. He had relied on slow tactics, first surviving, gathering information and then making a plan. But with Zsasz in here that would be impossible.

He had to talk to Jim! This instant! Negotiate a plan. Make a deal!

"Gordon," he ruffled desperately and tasted dried blood in his mouth. To his horror he was mercilessly ignored.

"This will make the boss happy," he heard a second voice and everything in him froze, again.

Boss. Which boss? He didn't mean Victor, did he?

His guts suddenly went numb.

"No," he protested croaking as the curtain was roughly pulled aside.

"No...nononononono," he rushed in panic as he was suddenly grabbed by two coarse hands.

"I was attacked! You must help me," Oswald croaked desperately, ignoring his pain. He wriggled wildly in the grip.

"Zsasz...Victor Zsasz...he kills me! Call Jim Gordon! Call him! Officer Gordon! There is a misunderstanding here! Do you hear me? A misunderstanding! Victor Zsasz and I must not be stationed together!"

Again and again he shouted the words and resisted in the grip, but he was ice-coldly ignored.

"GUARDS!" he shouted helplessly and when he noticed that nobody payed attention, not even when they were already in the hallway, he only begged a frightened "No, no, no".

The two broad men carried him across the hall, like the guards the day before. Panic was building up in him. They brought him "to the boss". This could mean Zsasz. Or not. Perhaps he had only bragged about it in the yard. _King in prison_. Yes, that suited him. Victor possessed the power, the abilities, he had this aura. Even though he wasn't a tactical leader, he had led a gang of professional killers.

 _Don't give up hope, Oswald,_ he tried to calm himself. Perhaps he was now taken to the "real" boss, to one who knew who he was. The Penguin, Oswald Cobblepot, a mass manipulator, a leader, a king. Not someone to beat to a mess, but someone to form an alliance with.

His heart sank further and further into his blue jumpsuit as they reached the iron gates. Of course, _the Boss_ must have been the more dangerous kind. They stopped and one of the men knocked on the hard metal.

"One sec", a voice sounded and Oswald felt close to fainting. It _was_ Victor. No doubt about that. The door opened and a big man stepped out. His expression alarmed Oswald. He looked...scared.  
NO, everything in him cried out one last time as he was dragged into the cell.  
  
"Penguin. My friend," the familiar voice greeted him cheerfully and he saw a half-naked Zsasz enthroned on his loft bed. He wore only blue pants, his upper body exposed and revealed his scars. Oswald's eyes grew big at the sight. Admittedly, despite their many years of collaboration, this grotesque sight was offered to him for the first time. In view of the red, fresh scars, it was clear that his former top man must have been active behind bars as well. There was no other way to explain the clearly fresh tally marks.

  
"Victor," he hissed as he looked into the dark eyes.  
"Mr. Zsasz!", corrected one of his goons and kicked his injured leg. Tormented, Oswald screamed and Victor grinned.  
"Careful," he warned the man who had become violent and admonished him with a raised finger.

"This little bird here", he nodded in Oswald's direction. "is a very special man. Let's say, an old friend."  
He revealed his white teeth as he grinned and Oswald spit out hateful.

  
"We are not friends! You are nothing more than a filthy traitor that betrays everything and everyone for the right price!"  
A loud clap sounded and his head flew to the side. He hadn't expected that. Numb, he looked at the blood, which dripped on the cold concrete floor.

"Position him," he heard, and then he was already forced on his knees. Full of hatred, he looked back at his former security counselor.   
  
"I advise you to reconsider," Victor said in a threatingly, husky voice as he looked at him from his dark eyes. "You know what I do with my enemies."  
Then he grinned sadistically.  
A hard goose bump appeared on Oswald's arms and despite the warning he spat blood at Victor's feet. As he raised his head, a rebellious flash had crept into his ice-blue eyes.  
This was reciprocated with an amused sparkle from the large, brown eyes.  
"Leave me alone with him."

"Can't we watch?" one asked disappointedly and Oswald felt a knot in his stomach.  
The look Victor gave them left no room for discussion and a moment later the heavy iron door fell closed.

  
Oswald remained silent on his knees. He was about to close his eyes. He knew Victor. And he knew, he liked to have all the fun for himself. Not that he didn't like any spectators, but sometimes he enjoyed it all alone.

The Penguin swallowed. Victor walked behind him, slowly. Walked around him, eyed him. He could feel his glance upon him. Upon his face, his neck. 

He shuddered. And tried to think about something. Something _helpful_. But his mind was blank. He hated himself for that, considering this was Victor, his former employee. He knew him. In fact he _had to knew_ everything about him, his weak points, his ambitions, his thoughts. But there was nothing. Before, Victor was _his_. He was loyal. He trusted him. Victor's fondness for professionalism, sadism and homicide was everything, that seemed to drove him. And his sense of loyalty.

But now he had no boss. He was his own boss. And Oswald didn't know what to expect. If Victor wanted revenge, he would torture him. If he wanted him dead, he already _would_ be dead.

When his former assassin stood in front of him, Oswald exhaled qietly. It made him nervous to have Victor behind him. It scared him. Every second he expected the cold hands on his neck. He dared to look at him. In the eyes.

Victor hasn't really changed. Despite the fact he was shirtless, he did seem like before. More or less. His eyes were darker. Maybe colder.

The two men looked at each other for a long time without saying a word. There was a lot in the air, a lot they never had a chance to say.  
Oswald had a lot to blame him for, or he could beg for his life, appeal to the loyal feelings the killer had for him in former times.  
  
"Look at you," Oswald said with a fake smile. "The King of Blackgate. I never doubted you, Victor. To be honest, I've always found that you never really realized your potential."  
  
That was the truth. He had thought a lot of his top man. Towards the end even a bit too much. And that became his downfall. He had been betrayed countless times in his career as Kind of Gotham, by his most loyal men, by his best friends and finally by his best man. And it had hurt more than he wanted to admit. It had broken him for a few weeks.  
Victor shrugged briefly and came closer. Oswald shuddered. The scarred, naked upper body was now only a few inches away from him. His anxious breath burned against the naked skin and he tried to stay calm.  
  
"And look at _you_ , _Boss_ ," the old name hung bittersweet in the air. "With a maltreated face and bleeding lips on his knees. In front of your former henchman."  
  
Oswald swallowed and suddenly he felt fingers on his chin. Shocked, he held his breath.  
  
"I've always liked it when you looked a little wrecked. Blood and injuries on your face". His thumb stroked from his chin up to his lower lip.

"I can see your freckles."

  
Panic flared up in Oswald. He didn't like what this sounded like at all. He struck Victor's fingers off his face in a flash.  
  
"What is this, Victor?" he spat at him angrily. Hot fear boiled in his ears. He shivered.

  
"Careful, boss," Victor warned him with a grin, the "boss" seemed humiliating and reminded Oswald who was boss _here_.  
Sighing, Victor leaned against his cell table and looked at him like a prey that he was ready to tear apart any moment.  
  
"Let me explain something to you, Penguin. Sooner or later you'll notice that the rules here are different." The white teeth flashed dangerously.

"The way I see it, your kind is the most endangered in here."

  
Oswald swallowed. He knew exactly what Victor meant.  
  
"You've probably heard the stories before." To make it clear, he bent down to Oswald again and added murmuring. "In the shower."

His cold breath tickled Oswald's ear and he tried not to hyperventilate.

  
"And honestly, who wouldn't like to try the Penguin."  
  
"Be quiet," Oswald hissed.

"Boss, you are no longer king here", the remark was almost gently pronounced. "You are a found food for every single one here. And then _so_ easily to abuse." He looked down at his injured leg and Oswald wanted to jump at him and scratch his eyes out.  
"Let _me_ worry about that, will you?" he hissed.

  
"Your infamous tantrums won't help you here either. To be honest, it only spurs on," he drawled, slightly amused at the sight of a raging penguin.  
Zsasz' grin made Oswald sick. The panic rose in him and made him more and more sick.

  
"Well, here's my deal", he drawled kind of bored.

  
Relieved on the inside, Oswald tried to calm down. Yes, that sounded more like what he was expecting. A deal. Victor was a man of reason. He thought about it again and laughed at himself. Well, reason was the wrong word, but Victor was affordable. He just had to know _how_.

  
"Become mine and my protection is yours."

Oswald blinked.

What?

"WHAT?" he shrieked.

  
"Well, since you're in jail for the first time, I'll explain it to you: fuck or you'll get fucked."  
  
Frightened, he gasped for air. He wanted to laugh it off, embarrassed, but Victor's face suddenly looked so expressionless that he forgot how to laugh.

  
"You don't mean that seriously," he breathed weakly.

  
"Oh, I do."

  
"I think I'll be sick," Oswald mumbled, attacked by disgust, and a helpless whimper almost escaped him.

Victor grinned again.

"What do you say?"

  
" **Forget it!** " Oswald shouted in sheer protest.  
"I thought you were reasonable! We could help each other! Instead you want...something **like that**?"

  
Roughly Oswald's hair was grabbed and pulled back.  
"You'll wish you'd gone for it," Zsasz whispered into his ear. Oswald couldn't breathe. He felt Victor's hot breath all over his face. It burnt.  
  
"But luckily for you, I like you. I won't force you. Just don't complain if someone else takes your virginity. And he will certainly not be as fond of you as _I am_."

  
The words hammered painfully into Oswald's ears and he was about to throw himself at the much stronger man and bite something off him. Victor was his former security counselor! And now he threatened _his_ safety.

  
"Go to hell," he mumbled and Victor just clicked his tongue amusedly. He felt the staring, he could feel Victor's glace undressing him. And he felt the urge to throw up. Victor used to be _his_. And now...he wanted to make _him_ his. In such a dishonorable way. Of course, he wasn't stupid. He knew the stories, stories of men. Stories of men in prison. But that was Victor. _His_ Victor. He never thought him capable of that. Murder, yes. Torture, totally. But...rape? Hot tears filled his burning eyes and he bit his lip, hard. A strange feeling of disappointment stung in his chest. He didn't allow himself to cry. He was better than this. He survived Jerome in Arkham. And he would survive Victor in Blackgate. The shameless staring dind't end, and he felt more and more naked. When the taste of copper filled his aching mouth and he had the feeling to die inside, he heard the familiar drawl.

  
"You can go."

Oswald blinked in disbelief.

"What?"

"Are you hard of hearing, Penguin? You're dismissed."

  
He couldn't believe it, but he didn't want to question it further. He just wanted as fast out as he could. Quickly he raised to his feet, at the door he heard Victor again.

  
"Oh, and watch out for the _Grizzly_. You wouldn't take it."

With a loud bang the door behind him slammed shut and he was grabbed by the two men, who brought him back to his cell. He didn't resist. After all, he was almost getting used to it. Or it was the shock. Victor's words echoed in his head. Confused, he frowned. The Grizzly? The name sounded familiar...he remembered one of the biggest black gorillas was named Grizzly. But...wouldn't take _what_? He thought hard until it was boiling hot inside him.

Zsasz, this filthy beast!

He had never thought his top man was so tasteless! And then also the "offer"! It was outrageous, disgusting! But on the other hand, Victor had let him go. Without causing further damage. Well, he had probably gotten enough anyway, if he thought of yesterday. He had to look at his injuries in his cell, he didn't really trust the medical treatment here. But for now, he still lived. Despite feeling disgusted about Victor's _avances,_ he survived. In fact he expected some sort of revenge, since he nearly beheaded him almost a year ago. But Victor was just being disgusting, that was all. At least he hoped so. He _did_ let him go, didn't he? He survived, that was all that counted. For now.

 

 


	3. Chapter 3

A few days had passed since Victor's questionable deal. Thanks to missing further attacks on him, his wounds had time to heal. Oswald still looked pretty worn out, a dark purple color adorned his eye and a diagonal, deep red wound ran across his cheek. Not to mention his bruised ribs, recognizable by the dark blue patches on his white skin. He could have sworn that some of them were even broken.

Although his days were confronted with a constant fear and inner tension, nothing happened. At least nothing he could not survive. Granted, every meal nothing of his dessert was left for him. Every time he had to watch helplessly as some stupid errand boy stole his pudding or his pathetic piece of cake from him. And whenever his glance followed bitterly his stolen dessert, he was horrified to find that it always landed right in front of Victor Zsasz, who waved cheerfully at him.  
This guy had heaped up about ten desserts each time! Unbelievable. But well, as long as it was only his dessert consumed by Zsasz and not his virginity, it shouldn't matter to him.

But to speak truly, it _still_ mattered! Whenever he wanted to join someone for a talk, they would just ignore him. He sometimes heard some whispering, things like "the boss", "strictly forbidden", "nobody's get to talk to the bird" and then quietly decided he didn't want to know more of this nonsense. Victor had probably played them all off against him. Well, as long as they didn't attack him, like the last time, this talking-ban shouldn't matter to him either.

But every day he felt more lonely. Not one single soul talked to him and then there was something else. Some suspicious guys, whose glances he always felt on himself. It was unpleasant for him and each time ran down his back ice-coldly. But nothing had happened. Not yet.  
The first time he had taken a shower he had survived it without any incidents. All in all, it looked as if he had been left alone here. And that was admittedly more than he had hoped for.

However - he wouldn't be the Penguin if he didn't strive for more. One evening when he was lying on top of his bed in the cell, he complained loudly about the meager furnishings in their cells.

"I didn't expect much, but honestly? Blackgate is even more miserably equipped than Arkham!”

A disinterested sound came from the lower floor of the bed and Oswald snorted angrily. The man in his cell had turned out to be the electrocutioner. This madman, who had almost fried his brain twice in the time he was with Maroni. Of course, Oswald had been trying for the last few days to have some kind of conversation with him, for two reasons: No one else spoke to him here. And maybe at some point the man's abilities could be in his favor again. After all, he had already broken out of Arkham once, so the man understood this area. As conclusion, there was a secret alliance to forge, and before Zsasz knew it, he was out here before he could steal another of his desserts. Or even more than that.

"Why don't we have a table in the cell?" he continued, complaining and remembering that he had seen one in Victor's cell. His comrade just snorted bored.

"Prison hierarchy," he only commented, and Oswald's mechanisms began to rotate. Maybe Victor was treated preferentially because he was in the "cell for dangerous inmates"? Probably these cells were just built differently, but what for? He had to find out.  
  
Next time on the way to the canteen, Oswald would trie to catch a glimpse through the small lattice window in Victor's iron door. The last and fortunately only time he had the honor of being called to the "boss", he hadn't really had time to look around in his cell. And apart from the lack of time, he was also a little distracted. On the one hand from the fact that he was threatened by his former henchman and on top of that by the many scars that Oswald had never seen despite their long time together.

The last few days his thoughts had been almost exclusively about this man. Understandable, after all they were something like enemies here. Apparently Victor hadn't forgiven him for the near-execution yet and was happy to demonstrate his power behind bars to his former boss. A hot wave of shame lay on his cheeks as he heard Victor's mumbled words in his mind.

"Fuck or get fucked."

Victor just bluffed, he was sure. He just wanted to humiliate him, that was all. Besides - what good would it do the other to do something like that to him? Power? Satisfaction? Or even pleasure...?  
Oswald didn't want to think any more about it. Well, he had been Victor's boss, but he never really wanted to know more about his private life than necessary, at least not until the last months of his service. Nervously he chewed on his fingernails. Actually he had repressed the memory of these months violently and didn't want to be reminded anymore, but now he forced himself to. If there was anything about Victor that he could know, he had to do it! But no matter how hard he tried to remember everything, he hadn't learned much back then.

Sometimes he had asked when he wanted to know something, sometimes he had stalked him too. With the excuse that he did all this only because he was paranoid. And that was also true. He didn't want to make the same mistake as with Butch or Ed, to trust someone too much. That's why he had him shadowed the weeks before Sofia appeared on the screen and demanded his attention. He never knew whether Zsasz was aware of it or not. If so, then he had never mentioned it. And if Oswald had private questions, he had answered. After all, they had known each other for over three years and he had become his top man. He had trusted him so much towards the end as not even he had trusted Ed before. He would've put his right hand in the fire for Victor. All the harder, and more painful was the betrayal afterwards.  
  
Sighing quietly, he tried to concentrate on his task as they walked along the corridor.  
When he finally got closer to the door, he took a look. In a flash, he tried to scan the room. The cell was spacious, more spacious and brighter than his, he could see. He had a desk and ...were there chocolate bars on his table? Over ten, fifteen? And a pizza box on the chair? His attention was quickly drawn to the body in the middle of the room. Victor. He didn't see much. The view was only visible from his neck to his hip. But something alarmed Oswald. At hip height...was that a head? Surprised, Oswald's eyes widened as a hand hid in the hair and pulled the head a little back...and forth. Hot shame pulsated through Oswald's veins.

Was that...? Did Victor just get a...? A bald head suddenly bent down a little and Oswald could see the facial expression. Relaxed. Suddenly the head turned and the dark eyes found his. Immediately the mouth pulled itself into a lurking grin and Victor winked provocatively at him. With a red head and a furious heart, Oswald turned away and limped along the corridor faster. Just hurry away, he couldn't find words for this...this abstruseness! 

The longer he thought about it, the more he had to admit that Victor was indeed attractive, but who in heaven's name would voluntarily kneel before him? And what about the chocolate bars and the pizza? Did he use it to pay for sexual favors? But where did he get these things from? You couldn't buy any of these things here, that was clear. So there was only one solution. Either he got them from outside or the guards brought him such favors. But why should they? When he thought about his time in Arkham, something like that was out of the question, even though he was the fallen king of Gotham at that time. And Victor? He was a nobody, a weapon without a brain, a professional killer who only acted but gave no orders. What had made him king here? Why did he get privileges? He had to know how! And then he would use this knowledge to his advantage. Perhaps he would also form an alliance with his former loyal servant. Who knew?

Despite everything, betrayal and hurt feelings, he still had a weak spot for the other. Three years. That was longer than anyone else had endured with him.  
And yet, he never had thought Victor for so ... hormone-controlled. In the time he sometimes had him shadowed, he hadn't even come across sexual contacts. He was sure that they existed though. However, the last few months Victor have had probably less _contacts_. And certainly not with _men_. That's why Victor's behaviour here in prison surprised him a bit. But maybe it was only because of the prison and the fact that he had been in here for several months. Otherwise he wouldn't describe Victor as a hormone-driven animal.  
  
In the cafeteria he pulled a face again, there was some pea slime with sausages and - semolina pudding with cherries. His gourmet heart jumped briefly. Maybe he wouldn't have to starve to death today. In his place, right next to an IT group that always discussed hacker attacks and porn circles on the Internet, Oswald felt strangely isolated, which was nothing bad. It didn't take long for a suspicious Thai boy to stroll up to him. His fingers clawed cramp-like around the dessert bowl.  
"Belongs to boss," he demanded and pointed at the small bowl in Oswald's fingers. Oswald searched the room for Victor. He sat on a table in the middle of the room, surrounded by food and waved with a big grin at him.  
  
"With kind regards," Oswald shouted manically across the room and then spat a generous load on the semolina pudding, holding Victor's gaze. The brown eyes darkened for a moment, but then sparkled amusedly. The criminal in front of Oswald hissed something threatening and reached for his collar.

"Ah-ah," Victor shouted playfully and waved the boy to himself. With a triumphant grin Oswald observed how the dessert was brought to Zsasz. Although his plan had failed and Victor wanted the dessert despite the spit, he felt victorious. For he had spoiled it for Zsasz and had also shown the other prisoners that he had a special place with Victor. He had stopped the Thai boy to punish him. Something like warmth flowed through his chest. When the pudding arrived in Victor's hands, he watched the spit amusedly. Oswald swallowed briefly, he wouldn't, would he? All the prisoners watched the man who was so obviously in charge here, and he didn't even pull a face.

"Mh”, he sighed in rapture. "Penguin spit," he spoke with a full mouth. "Delicious.”

Oswald's facial features slipped and then he suddenly held his breath. Victor licked the spoon with relish, licked every drop of his spit, suggestive, provocative. The first inmates were already laughing and Oswald wanted to turn his head away, but his gaze was magnetized. All of a sudden Zsasz pushed the plastic spoon slowly into his mouth and pulled it out again. In and out. Victor didn't even for a second break eye contact with his ex-boss. The men around him began to whistle and Oswald turned red.

"Disgusting" he mumbled, but he couldn't ignore the heat of shame. This humiliation!

"Maybe we'll share next time," Victor suggested loudly and provocatively.

"I'll do gladly without," Oswald hissed humiliated with his eyes closed, as he wanted to be spared this degrading sight. But then he gave him a polite, faked smile.

"Let's see how long, will we?", Victor replied in his typical way, stretching every word. The men looked at Oswald lurking and feixing, some even whistled.

"The boss gets what he wants," he heard a broadly built Nazi shout and Oswald theatrically twisted his eyes.

He could wait a long time for that! He loved his life, but on his knees? In front of Victor? That was against his nature, against his pride! And besides...he hadn't even kissed! Something so obscene completely excluded! It ran down his back freezing cold as he felt the professional killer's gaze on him until he left the room. Victor could make him really queasy! It's always been that way! At the very beginning, when he was still working for Falcone, Oswald was really afraid of him. He was just grotesque, unlike everyone else.

He could kill someone without batting an eyelid, without the slightest emotion, or he could laugh. No matter how he did it, one thing was for sure. He was professional and he didn't miss. When you got into his sights, it was already a death sentence. Thank God Oswald had been spared, except for the incident with Sofia Falcone, of course. But apart from that, Oswald was never on the hit list and that of course had made working with him very pleasant and at some point almost personal.  
In here, however, the tide had turned. But Oswald was somehow sure that Victor wouldn't do anything to him. Something in him still felt that connection. Yes, Victor's glances were creepy, especially the sexually suggestive ones, but he could still see something familiar in the dark brown eyes. This was still his Victor. At least he hoped so.

 

 


	4. Chapter 4

"I want to talk to Jim  _this instant_ ! Officer Jim Gordon!"  


  
Instead of Jim's voice, he heard the familiar and hated signal. Smoke came out of his ears and beyond angry he hit the receiver against the wall.  
That was the second time they hung up! Nobody hung up on Oswald Cobblepot! Especially not twice!  
He had to change his strategy. But first he had to calm down.  
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. 'Calm down, Oswald.'  
  
"Move scumbag, we've been waiting 5 minutes!"  
"Dude, get it together! Your bitch has a new one, doesn't want to know ya anymore, just put the phone down."  
  
Annoyed, the Penguin rolled his eyes. If only he had a knife, he would silence the two 'gentlemen' behind him. With pleasure, for sure.  
  
Opening his eyes, he typed the number one more time and put a hand over his mouth.  
  
"Good morning, I'm calling because of the murder on the pier. I have an important information."  
  
Right before breakfast he was able to catch a glimpse of a guard's newspaper and read the headline.  
"Lucifer Adam - murdered on the pier". 

Oswald knew the name, it was some stupid banker's son, who thought he could buy anything with his father's money. No big loss at all.  
He knew Jim would be involved in the case. And if not, he would have heard about it. Either way, Jim would never ignore a clue.  
  
"Name, please."  
"I'm not talking to anyone but Jim Gordon."  
"Just a moment."  
Hope flowed through Oswald's veins.  
  
"Officer Jim Gordon."  
"Jim," he sighed relieved.  
"Oswald." Jim didn't sound half as pleased as Oswald.  
"Let me guess, there's no information?"  
"Oh yes, there is," he lied. He was good at lying, calculating, playing.  
"I'm all ears."  
Oswald laughed. He tried to sound more coquettish than desperate.  
"Oh Jim", he felt almost like in the old days when he still had all the strings in his hand.  
  
"That's not how it works. An old friend like you should know that."  
Jim sighed and Oswald grinned full of anticipation.  
"What do you want, Oswald?"  
Again he let a faked laugh be heard.  
"Why would I want anything? Isn't it normal to visit your old friends in prison?" he asked, harmlessly in a superimposed manner.  
Jim sighed again.  
"Oswald, I have more important things to do."  
Hot rage throbbed in Oswald's temples. Again typical, the saintly Officer Gordon who was too good to do a decent service.  
  
"Let me be clear, Jim. The prisoners are talking. And you know me. I'm the master at gathering information. And if you want something from _me_ , I expect some decency. At least have the guts to come here and face me. And if you come up with the glorious idea of sending Harper or Alvarez, my lips will be sealed."   
  
He had talked himself into such a rage that he didn't even know if Jim was still on the line. It had become very quiet. He was so angry that he would have preferred to hang up, but so desperate that he had to hear if the fish had bitten.

  
"Tomorrow.”  
A stone fell from his heart.  
But he wouldn't be the Penguin if he didn't try any harder.  
"So that's how much information is worth to you these days?" He laughed. "Earlier you would have run after every lead _immediately_."  
"That's still the case. I'm just giving you until tomorrow to find an _actual_ lead."  
Oswald grinned.  
"But Jim," he hypocritically purred.  
"Save it, Oswald. See you tomorrow.”  
"And bring some doughnuts!”  
Grinning, Oswald hung up and rubbed his hands. Oh, that had gone much better than expected. He wanted to bathe longer in his moment of bliss, but he was roughly pushed out of the way by an inmate.  
  
"Move, you little freak!"  
  
However, the small blow could not stop his joy, it could dampen it, yes. But he wouldn't be Oswald Cobblepot if he couldn't handle a little damper. 

Jim would come! Tomorrow! And then he would cry something to him about Victor being here too and how he now feared for his life. Well, that all corresponded to the facts. Although Victor discreetly held back - at least for the last few days - he always had to fear for his safety. If not from Victor, then from all the other curious figures.  
But now he saw the light. The light at the end of the tunnel. And if he didn't reach anything tomorrow, at least he got donuts. And maybe he could knock out some other deal or gather information. He always found some loophole. That was his specialty.  
  
Satisfied with himself he limped into the basement of the prison. He was assigned to work with the laundry.  
Down in the laundry room he and his assigned partner started to fold the clean laundry. Down here it was quite warm. There were some men working here, most of them a bit smaller or older. Or crippled, like him. Doing laundry wasn't exactly a hard job and secretly Oswald was happy about it although he would like to work in the kitchen. On the one hand, because he hoped to change something about the bland taste and on the other hand, because he hoped to be able to secretly steal a knife. But it wasn't bad here either, at least for the beginning.  
And the best thing about it was: Neither Victor nor other dangerous men were to be found here. Sometimes he was stared at by some suspicious guys, like a juicy piece of meat. But nothing had happened yet.  
And his "partner" was a one of Zsasz men, one of the blacks he gathered around himself. He could still remember his face when he kicked him in the face a few days ago. This time, however, he hadn't made any effort in that direction yet, but he hadn't really talked to him either. 

 

  
Again and again Oswald tried something, talked about the weather, complained about the guards or about the food. But Zsasz' henchman never really went into it. Sometimes he heard sporadic answers like "Mhhm" or "Ahh".  
  
"And what was the dessert like today? To be honest, I was already looking forward to it, but - you know the story, once again it became the "Boss's", Oswald complained snivelling, before the other grinned briefly. Aha! So the other one heard him. And had even reacted briefly.  
  
"I don't know if you know, but _I_ used to be the Boss of _your_ "Boss". And I must say, I have never behaved so nastily towards him!”  
  
Zsasz' man shrugged his shoulders.  
"New times, new measures," he said while getting a new bag of laundry and not looking at Oswald. 

Oswald snorted.  
"At least I always let him have his dessert! I can't explain why he's descending to such a low level!"  
The other one shook his head in silence.  
"Every time he steals my dessert, nobody talks to me because of him, not even you! What am I? Air?!”  
The taller guy raised his gaze briefly.  
"The boss already said, you like to talk.”  
"Aha, an answer, thank you!” Oswald knocked appreciatively on the table.  
"If you want someone to talk to, go to the Boss."  
Oswald pulled his brows together.  
"Why should I go to Victor-"  
"Accept his offer and the ban will be lifted."  
"What ban?"  
His partner shook his head.  
Aha! So it was indeed an instruction from Victor! He wanted to isolate him from everyone and really _did_ issue a ban on talking to him.  
Now he laughed, it was fake.  
"I _certainly_ will not accept 'this offer'. Thank you.”  
"Then not," the other said indifferently and then fell into silence again. All following questions were ignored and Oswald became really desperate.  
  
Dean, the name of Zsasz' man, briefly left the room to go to the toilet and a frail-looking old man came to Oswald. He looked like a hundred years old and Oswald wondered, if at least _he_ would talk to him.  
"Hey boy, looks like your shoelace's open."  
Oswald's gaze fell down, the old man was right.  
"Oh, thank you," he said, politely, since he didn't want to be rude. After all, that was the first one who was willing to talk to him. When he went to his knees to tie his shoes, his head was suddenly pressed against the old man's crotch.  
Screaming, Oswald waved his arms, damn it, he wasn't so weak otherwise! His cries were muffled and he could not breathe. What was that all about? Did the old man want to suffocate him with his intimate smell? Desperately he tried to hit him, but suddenly he heard a muffled noise and he could breathe again. Shocked and struggling for breath he looked up and looked straight into Dean's unmoved face. He had thrown the laundry bag on the table, apparently he had struck down the old man with it, who was now lying on the floor groaning.  
  
"Th...Thank you," Oswald stuttered awkwardly and Dean stepped out of the old man's way seemingly uncaring.  
"Thank the boss," he just said, and Oswald rose trembling. Zsasz? But why should he...?  
Of course...now it made sense too, Dean was here for his protection. But he was not allowed to talk to him. In this way Victor made sure that Oswald remained untouched, but driven mad with loneliness. So he wanted to drive him to himself! 

Ingenious! 

Still a little frightened, Oswald stroked his strands from his face and avoided looking at anyone in the room.  
  
"I hardly left for two minutes and you fell on your knees in front of someone? Then in front of Earl, who can hardly stand on his own feet? Are you kidding me?" he surprisingly heard from the other.  
“He said, my shoe was open", Oswald hissed embarrassed and tried to banish every quake from his voice.  
  
Dean put his flat hand in front of his forehead.  
"Boy, are you serious? Ever heard of the soap trick?"  
"Yes, I did! But that's in the shower!", Oswald hissed.  
"Oh, and you don't think that horny bastards that don't get anybody in here wouldn't try it outside of the shower?"  
Oswald was silent. To be honest he just was fighting with his tears. All of a sudden he felt so stupid and the fact that Dean treated him like a little child was _not so_ helpful.   
"A very simple piece of advice, never look down, don't bend down, and never ever: get on your knees!”  
He wanted to answer something about how that was not his intention, but that he couldn't really tie his shoes when he bent over because of his bad leg, but for the first time he had lost the need to talk. Instead, he just hissed a low-pitched:  
"I had everything under control", which was commented only with a snide look.  
  
Oswald didn't want to see anyone, didn't want to hear anyone. He didn't know why this affected him at all, it really hasn't been anything. It was really nothing, it was just an old man and he'd been wearing pants but Oswald had felt the hardness underneath. And the longer he thought about it the dirtier he felt. All the more miserable and helpless. He had been molested by a weak 100-year old grandpa. It was so embarrassing! And he knew exactly that he could hear something from Zsasz. That he was a found food for everyone, even for the scum at the bottom of the hierarchy. And that was the worst part.  
  
Later in the evening he had lost his appetite, but he still had to go into the hall. It was a duty, he was not allowed to skip dinner. He would love to hide under his blanket in his cell, but even there he wasn't safe.  
  
Who knew what the electrocutioner thought at night when he was overcome by his libido. With his lips clenched, he entered the canteen and joined the queue. His whole body was tense, expecting an attack every second. He felt Victor's presence. Somewhere behind him. Maybe six or five people behind him. He didn't know why, but after three years, he was sensitive to his aura. And he felt his gaze. Just like in their old times.  
  
After he had picked up his fried egg and his steamed potatoes, he breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't believed that he would survive this without anyone grabbing his ass. But he had!

When he looked for a new place, somewhere far back in a corner, because he didn't trust even the bikergroup any more, he still felt _his_ gaze. He wondered if Dean had told him. He was sure, he did.  
  
That was also confirmed when someone suddenly sat down beside him. He knew who it was. And instinctively he flinched back. This time he had not accepted dessert. He knew that he would lose it anyway. Since spitting into it did not help, he did not want it at all. Besides, it was probably the only way to stand up to him.  
He didn't say anything, but took an small bite from his fried potatoes.  
  
"The potatoes aren't bad this time," Zsasz noted with satisfaction, and Oswald ignored him. He had no need to talk. As an exception. Which surprised him. But after the incident in the basement, he needed some time to gather himself. He suddenly no longer knew who he could trust here and who he could not, when an old weak stallion could pose a danger to him. What was clear, however, was that Victor was more dangerous. That's why he had to plan his next steps very carefully. One false step and he would get rid of his virginity faster than he had thought before. Deep in thought he brooded over his potatoes and shovelled them into his mouth without enthusiasm. What should he do? Should he continue to give Zsasz the cold shoulder or should he try to appeal to his former loyalty to him? 

Victor had liked him then, at least a little, he was sure of that. They had a connection. He had felt even closer to him than to others for a while. Especially at the time when he had Edward frozen.  
Suddenly he felt a hand on his knee and he twitched so hard that he knocked over his entire plate. Zsasz raised his hands amused and he heard a nasty laugh from somewhere behind them.  
"Relax, Boss," Victor laughed, but Oswald wasn't about laughing or relaxing at all. He was scared and even a little disturbed.  
"I've heard about tod-"  
"  _What_ do you want here, Victor?" Oswald hissed hostilely and now turned his head towards the other. Wasn't he humiliated enough already? Did he want to expose him even more here in front of everyone? Tears of despair and anger glittered in his ice-blue eyes and he trembled with fear.  


Victor looked at him calmly. He said nothing and Oswald couldn't guess what he was thinking. He was a mystery to him. Ever since. 

Oswald wanted to ask him why. Why he treated him like  _that_ . But he knew the answer. He was Victor's toy. Just as he had been Jerome's back then in good old Arkham. Sick bastards, both of them!

He just wanted to be left alone, was that too much to ask?!

Without a word Zsasz rose and left him alone. A stone fell from Oswald's heart and he stared lifeless at his plate. The trembling gradually subsided. 

 

But suddenly he felt lonely and empty. He wouldn't admit it, but that one minute together had felt almost like it did back then. In the Van Dahl Villa and in the Iceberg Lounge, when Victor was always at his side. They had often eaten or drunk together, had sat next to each other back then, just as they had one moment ago. So close that their knees touched slightly. Back then it had become so natural. Although he didn't necessarily seek physical contact with others, apart from Edward, with Victor it had sometimes come natural. And he had always enjoyed those little moments. 

 

Memories broke over him like a hot wave of agonizing melancholy and he tried to blink the images from his mind.

 

How suddenly everything could change! Too often Oswald had felt this,  _everything was transient_ . Loyalty, friendship, love...

When he desperately rubbed his eyes and swallowed the hot lump in his throat, he saw something next to his tray. Something Victor had forgotten. His dessert. 

A piece of carrot cake with icing sugar. 

His heart skip a beat and because he couldn't believe it (was that a trap?), he turned his head and looked for Victor's gaze across the room. He found him and his former top man returned his gaze. There was no provocative grin on his face, he looked almost indifferent, but suddenly he winked. It wasn't provocative or challenging, it was almost...intimate. 

It reminded him of the time when he had searched Victors face in a room full of unknown, dangerous mafia bosses and he had always assured him with a playful wink that Oswald could count on him. 

With his heart beating faster, Oswald turned away and prayed that no one would notice his ears turning pink. 

But he knew Victor. 

He never missed a single thing.

 

 


End file.
